


Taking Advantage

by DictionaryWrites



Category: Discworld - Terry Pratchett
Genre: Dirty Talk, M/M, Masochism, Power Dynamics, Praise Kink, Rough Sex, Sleepy Sex, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-25
Updated: 2019-05-25
Packaged: 2020-03-17 12:19:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18965104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DictionaryWrites/pseuds/DictionaryWrites
Summary: Drumknott, when he's half-asleep, is... flexible.





	Taking Advantage

Willikins glanced at the clock. Four-fifteen.

Rolling over, he leaned on his elbow, and he looked down at Drumknott in the dark, curled up with his face pressed into the meat of Willikins’ arm, one of his fingers loosely gripping at the hem of his pyjama shirt. His feet had tangled around the sheets, as usual, and he was breathing evenly. It wasn’t often that Willikins woke before he did, and now he reached out, tangling his fingers through Drumknott’s hair.

“Mm,” Drumknott hummed, pressing into Willikins’ hand, and Willikins slid his hand underneath the sheet, his hand between Drumknott’s legs. He was only wearing one of Willikins’ sleepshirts, and there was still some wetness from last night lingering on him: Willikins dragged his fingers over his arse, where he was relaxed and open and just slightly wet, and Drumknott’s eyes fluttered. “John.”

“Rufus?”

“ _John_ ,” Drumknott groaned, and Willikins laughed, catching Drumknott’s mouth underneath his own and kissing him. Drumknott was clumsy with sleep, clumsy and uncertain, but when Willikins poured some of the lubricant on the table onto his fingers and slipped them inside, Drumknott moaned into his mouth.

“Gods, you’re tight,” Willikins murmured against his mouth as he scissored his fingers as wide as they’d go, and he rolled onto his back, dragging Drumknott with him. “I’d have you on your back all the time, if I could… or just like this. Have you open and ready for me.”

Drumknott’s eyes were half-lidded, and he’d usually complain at the talk, would fidget and squirm, put his hand over Willikins’ mouth, get him to stop. Now, he flushed brightly pink, looked down at him from sleepy eyes, but didn’t protest, didn’t complain. Willikins drew himself out from his pyjama trousers, lining himself up, and the _sound_ Drumknott made when he lowered his hips down onto him was divine, a stuttered, gasping little whimper.

“Bloody beautiful,” Willikins murmured, and he grabbed at Drumknott’s hips, sliding his hands back farther, gripping tightly at Drumknott’s arse, feeling the way his hips thrust down against him. Drumknott’s movements were small and unmeasured, his eyes closed, and he fell forward against Willikins’ chest, burying his nose in the hair there. “Love your arse. I’d put you in tighter trousers if it was me, let you distract all them lords and ladies—”

“Shut _up_ ,” Drumknott mumbled, his cheeks hot against Willikins’ chest, and Willikins smacked his hand against his arse and the top of his thigh, feeling him jolt.

“Yeah, that’s it,” Willikins said as Drumknott grunted, clenching around him. He _was_ tight – tight and hot and moving just enough that he shifted the pressure around him, but never letting Willikins go for more than a second or two, and Willikins _knew_ his cock was big, that it must be thick and heavy inside him, but Drumknott took it like he was made to. “That’s it, pretty—”

“ _Don’t_ ,” Drumknott hissed, “call me pretty.”

“Alright, you’re a little prick with a fat arse and a mouth like hot butter, and I want to see you come on my cock,” Willikins said, and Drumknott _whimpered_ , his thighs quivering as his hands grabbed clumsily at Willikins’ waist, his hips. “Love this body, this arse, these thighs. Want to leave you bruised all over, make you limp up those stairs to the Patrician’s office, make sure all them Dark Clerks know you’re getting it at home—”

“ _John_ —”

“Neck made for choking,” Willikins said, and slid one hand up Drumknott’s belly, his chest, squeezing the base of his throat, and Drumknott moaned against his chest, trying to shift his position, probably to change the angle Willikins was seated in him at. “And this cock—”

Drumknott heaved in a gasp, and Willikins gripped at him tighter, sliding his thumb over Drumknott’s cockhead. He did it roughly, because Drumknott was a slattern for that, and he acted it now, his hips stuttering, his breaths coming sharp and sudden and high-pitched. Twisting his hand, he grinned when Drumknott choked.

“You gonna come for me?” Willikins asked, and he squeezed, just a little too tight, saw Drumknott’s eyes widen and his body stiffen, heard the hitch in his groan. “Come on, you prissy little bitch, I want to see you—”

“Do you really like the sound of your own voice that much?” Drumknott asked breathlessly. Willikins slid his hand a little under, grabbed at his bollocks and _squeezed_ , and Drumknott’s noise was closer to a yelp than a moan, but his cock pulsed, and Willikins let out a dirty little laugh as he watched him come. It was good, seeing the way his whole body tightened and shifted, the way his back arched.

Willikins rolled his hips up a few more times, delighted in the way that Drumknott’s low moans tapered off into oversensitive keens, and he slipped his fingers up against the ring of muscle drawn tight over Willikins’ cock, pressed on it, tugged just a little—

“Let me up,” Drumknott mumbled, and Willikins ran his handkerchief between their bellies.

“No,” he said. “I want my personal cockwarmer to sleep just here.”

Drumknott’s cheeks were so hotly red when he leaned back that Willikins grinned, and he drew the sheet up over Drumknott’s body, let him fall forward, stay still in his place, his face pressed against Willikins’ shoulder, his mouth against his chest.

“You’re a twat,” Drumknott said.

“Yeah,” Willikins said, and squeezed his thigh. “What’re you gonna do about it?”

“Go back to sleep,” Drumknott muttered, and Willikins dragged him into another kiss, bit his lower lip and delighted in the way he moaned, softly, sleepily.

“I’m going to fuck you awake, later,” Willikins murmured against his mouth, then against his ear as he nipped at the shell. “Fuck you so hard you wake up at your usual hour with a stiffy every morning, how’s that?”

“Sounds inconvenient,” Drumknott mumbled. Willikins chuckled, and Drumknott pinched the side of his stomach before he relaxed in his place once again.


End file.
